Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Spotting them is a skill I acquired at a very early age, J.”
“Janae,” she smoothly corrects pulling our stares back together. “Or Nae. He’s the only one that’s ever called me J.”
“And you hate it.”
“So, so fucking much.”
Intrigue has me quirking an eyebrow. “Then why does he do it?”
“Because it’s never mattered about what I want.”
“Fuck that, it matters to me.”
“And see,” her grip tightens in the slightest, “I like that it matters to you, Justus.”
“J.T.”
Nae flashes me a smile sweet enough to need a sugar rush warning. “J.T.”
Holyfuck, I don’t think there’s a more perfect sound in this world than hearing her say my name.
Perhaps maybe moaning it?
Can we make that happen?
Will we be making that happen?
How deep into this fake dating thing does she want us to go?
Hell, how far am I willing to go?
“Should we order a couple drinks?” My thumb gently strokes the skin in its possession. “Get to know each other a bit better?”
“I’d like that,” she readily agrees, “but I’d like it even more if we didn’t do it in the same ol’ trite and true eight count type of way.”
Eight count?
Maybe she’s a ballerina?
Plays a ballerina on T.V. which would explain why she too has security?
Should I ask?
Wait for more information?
“You in?” Nae cautiously follows up when I don’t respond to her suggestion in a timely manner.
“Uh…” clearing my throat occurs to help me refocus, “whatcha thinkin’?”
“I like the idea of a vacation long round of ‘I’ve Never…’.”
“Why?”
“Because I like honesty-”
“Same.”
“-and have learned that people tend to be a lot more honest on vacation when they feel there’s less at stake.”
Guess that makes me the exception because right now I feel like everything is at stake.
I’ve finally met the woman of my dreams – in reality – and am willing to do whatever it takes to keep her.
Make her mine.
Us real.
“You know…I like hearing what you like.” Stopping my tongue from stealing a small taste of my lips is impossible. “What you want.”
Surprise momentarily renders her speechless.
“And I like knowing that I’m the one that’s gonna give it to you.”
Rather than lean into my obvious lasciviousness, she lets her head tilt to one side on a loud snicker. “How very DMX of you.”
Embarrassed chortles are accompanied by an even more embarrassing headshake. “Yeah, that shit sounded so much better in my head.”
“Probably,” Nae good naturedly goads, “but I like that you went for it anyway.”
Grinning continues.
“Always go for it anyway.” Her smile softens encouraging me to inch closer once again. “Always find that bit of Kirk in yourself to do the weird, the crazy, the seemingly impossible but most definitely improbable.”
“Marry me,” mindlessly flutters past my lips prompting her to lightly giggle again, a sound that’s easily second best to hearing her say my name.
“Fake dating first…” Her hand abandons mine to reach for the nearby laminated themed menu. “Possible real engagement second.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 2
Janae
Yeah, it’s probably not healthy to be this into a stage combat panel.
But like…I am.
Because it’s dancing.
Violent dancing to an explosion soundtrack.
I mean what the fuck is better than that?!
Oh!
Maybe I should take a stage combat course if I don’t get offered the lead choreographer gig!
That could be a fun change of career choice unlike being told you’re now “too old” to be a professional cheerleader in the NBA because you’re a little over thirty.
And by a little over I mean a few months.
Literally.
Months.
Applause for the group of directors from The Society of American Fight Directors immediately begins upon their stated ending and continues with standing ovations I’m proud to be a part of for another forty seconds or so.
However, the instant the crowd begins to disperse, something I’m less pleased with appears.
“Hey, J,” slyly greets Wheeler from my left, appearing like he’s one of the long lost Duras Sisters. “Knew I’d find you here.”
Of course, he fucking knew I’d be here.
It’s a dance themed panel!
The only thing I love more than Star Trek is dance, although there have been times when I’m pretty sure I love the former more.
Probably because it never had someone tell me I was too fat.
Or too dark skinned.
Or too tall.
Or not tall enough.
Or didn’t have enough ass.
Or enough tits.
Or wasn’t worth the zeroes I worked tirelessly for on every contract I signed.
“Wheeler,” I cordially greet back knowing better than to fully engage.
Yeah.
He’s one of those give a person an inch, they take you screaming on a cross-country road trip type of individuals.
“Come on, peaches…” His body noticeably creeps closer. “You know I like it when my girl calls me Wheels.”
“I am not your girl, Wheeler.” Sliding my hands into the back pockets of my cut-off jeans occurs between declarations. “And I am not interested in being her ever again.”
“How about we talk about that shit?” The corner of his mouth villainously kicks upward. “See, if I can change your mind?”